#just realized i forgot winry’s earrings……oh well

[ahbogman]

“goodbye… for now.”

EdWin Week Day 1!!! - Bittersweet

@503week

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 35

Last time: Ed wasn’t a racist, Sloth forgot to turn left at Albuquerque, and M.G. Armstrong was getting ready to show off to the tourists. Onwards!

Episode 35 - “The Shape of This Country”

Awesome, we’re right back into it, M.G. Armstrong repeating her line from last episode. Ed’s confused until Buccy grabs his head and then his whole body to “lend a hand”. The Brothers protest until Buccy puts his pistol to Ed’s head what the Leto?!

[Buccy]: “You were forced to help us under duress; how does that excuse work for ya?’

Eh we can get into order technicalities later, just go with it for now Ed. Heck, if you pull this off right it’ll never get back to Bradley!

Poor Falman’s conscripted as well, Buccy still holding Ed at gunpoint as they take fuel cans to Gate 8. Seeing as the defused shells were insufficient, M.G. Armstrong uses her new weapons as blunt instruments to simply push Sloth into the elevator. Poor tank commander, he just wanted to show off the tanks to his boss but now he’s just getting stepped on by her. It works, and the slow thug is sent somewhere else to the relief of the poor mooks.

Now we’re down to Gate 8, where Sloth shambles out of the elevator all confused about where he is now. Suddenly Buccy runs in and damn, guy just shoulder-threw the biggest Goth so far to the ground, right below the others who poured the tank fuel onto him.

Good, you’ve soaked the Goth in flammable material. Anybody got a match?

Uh.

Ok, I can’t fault you for this one. Why settle for a match when you’ve got a Leto-damn tank?

Alright, that shot knocked it outside, you can use explosive shells safely now! FIRE!

…

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out of ammo?! You didn’t save even a single explosive shell? Boo.

Falman… I’ll say he ‘contributed’ by shooting down an icicle, but he probably didn’t need to bother. The Brothers run forward and Brother Kick off the fort wall. Guys, do you not realize the plan? You want heat, not this blasted cold!

Wait, what are you saying Buccy?

Oh. Well don’t I feel foolish now. I got so hung up on the idea of setting Sloth on fire that I didn’t even think about the opposite. Fast evaporating liquid plus stupidly low temperatures? Near-instant Gothsicle.

Awesome! Dead or not, Sloth isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Now we can- hey! Don’t arrest the Elrics, they helped! Falman too!

Argh, even with Sloth on ice M.G. Armstrong’s keeping up the excuse that they were forced to help, and as long as they’re detained she can try to get some more answers out of them. Although I’m totally down for learning what Sloth wanted, I can’t think of any reason the Goths would need a tunnel all the way to the northern edge of Amestris.

Rise and shine, prisoner! Ed seems to share my disdain for cold-weather mornings, but he perks up when one of the labcoats comes by with a mug. Ed, I wouldn’t- dude really? Just yesterday you got charged for a cup of coffee, why are you surprised the same thing happened today?

At least he gets some good information for free, like that a search party was sent into the tunnel to figure out what the heck it was, and Sideburns is visiting the hospital, there’s a soldier who… uh oh, it’s Kimblee, isn’t it? I know that the Elrics haven’t met him yet, and he still has to make up for his pathetic showing on that train, but I think that Ed should still worry more about the guy working for the Goths than his old enemy.

We get some other Briggs soldiers dropping by as well to thank the Elrics for their help yesterday. Ed and I are impressed by the camaraderie these guys seem to share, for a place defined by Survival of the Fittest there’s a good amount of teamwork and goodwill. Not enough to defy M.G. Armstrong and let them out of course, but still.

At the hospital Sideburns is confirming that Scar got away, before saying that Fort Briggs would search for Scar while Kimblee healed up. Kimblee of course demands that they back off and let him continue his hunt, Sideburns of course says they won’t just let a serial killer wander freely.

Ooooh… Sideburns just took off his sunglasses to show Kimblee his unmistakable red eyes, leaning in to warn a shocked Kimblee that if he tries to order him around again that he’d never leave the hospital. “You behave yourself.” Ha! Take that, you puffed up murderer!

Another visitor? Ah, it’s the traitor General Raven, come to check on their attack dog and their Philosopher’s Stones… really? Kimblee has both Stones? And he still got curbstomped by Scar? This is the same guy who utterly obliterated Ishval with just one, right? You make me sad, Kimblee. Shove off so we can worry about a real threat.

Whatever, the General still seems to think he’s useful so he’s brought a doctor (Leto-damn it stop adding doctors to this show, I can’t keep up with all of them!) to speed up his recovery with Alchemy. And wow that smile with several missing and one gold tooth. If I saw that guy come into the waiting room, I’d take my chances with whatever I had rather than trust him.

Marcoh and May! The original Doc is going over the research notes, says Alkahestry seems pretty complicated. May helpfully clarifies about this “Dragon Pulse” stuff, about how Alkahestry uses Chi, ‘rivers of power’ running through the world. Alhakestrists are able to trace the Chi and use where it enters and where it leaves to perform Remote Transmutation, like setting off the explosion at the train depot or making a statue of Shao on the other side of the cabin.

Alchemists don’t use Chi though, they use their own energy- wait, what? They use “energy from the movement of the Earth’s crust”? Bwah? So Alchemists tap into a deeper pool of energy… but May doesn’t feel like that’s right. She’s felt off ever since she got to Amestris, and under Central she could sense energy. Not like movement under the land, but “a crowd of people, squirming around”...

…

Oh for Leto’s sake. It’s the Super Grief Seed all over again.

Central’s sitting on either a crap ton of standard Philosopher’s Stones, or a great big honkin Super Philosopher's Stone. That’s what’s powering Amestrian Alchemy, isn’t it? And if all of Amestris draws from this one power source, and Uncle has access to it, then he can shut it down to cut everyone off. Alkahestrists like Scar and May were ok, but everyone else drawing from the SPS?

And damn it that means that when our heroes win they’ll shut down Alchemy? Either they’d better learn the heck out of Alkahestry to repair their bodies, or this show’s gonna have a very unsatisfying ending.

Mid-ep pictures of Edward and Alphonse Elric.

Repairs are underway in the Fort Briggs furnace room, and M.G. Armstrong’s getting a report about the tunnel; great big tunnel, but no one in it. She calls for some horses and the Elric Brothers.

Huh, the tunnel looks like it has railings. I thought Sloth was just digging a tunnel, and I doubt he’d have the fine motor control to set such even construction. So who set those up? While Ed admires the tunnel, M.G. Armstrong gripes that an intruder got through her defenses. Nobody’s even gotten in Briggs while she’s been in charge, but there was an incident 20 years ago…

Seriously? Teacher, I’m disappointed. You brag about surviving for a whole month in the Briggs Mountains, but it turns out that you just mugged some poor soldiers for their lunches?

M.G. Armstrong decides that they’ve gone far enough. Ah, I see! This was to get the Elrics away from curious ears in the Fort, so you can question them about what they couldn’t say earlier. Hoo boy. This could go very well, or very poorly. M.G. Armstrong? Please don’t give my fears foundation.

Cut to after the Elrics have talked about the Stones and Goths, Bradley and Uncle. The hostages too; Winry, Riza, Havoc…

[Falman]: “And, uh… w-what about Colonel Mustang?”

[M.G. Armstrong]: “Yeah… I couldn’t care less about him.”

Oh my Leto she’d just as rather see him fall to remove another “rival”. She’s after the title of Fuhrer! I… I don’t know how to feel about this.

Regardless, she wants the Elrics to examine the tunnel. Ed guesses that it didn’t originate in Drachma, and that it’s in the shape of a circle-

!!!

He’s figuring out what Hughes figured out ages ago! What got him killed!

Ed has Falman start reporting all major incidents in Amestris, gets a shock when he learns about Liore falling to pieces even after he and Al exposed the corrupt priest. M.G. Armstrong snaps at him to keep working though. He connects the dots…

[Falman]: “H-how is that possible? It looks just like the Transmutation Circle from the Fifth Laboratory!”

Yup. It’s a giant, country-sized TC. But-

Yeah, Marcoh’s saying he asked Envy if that was their plan, but the Goth had laughed at that, saying “That’s not it, but close.” Was he lying?

Oh thank Leto May’s giving up on the Philosopher’s Stone. Her Alkahestry and the research notes could possibly find a workaround. Maybe. There’s hope. But no matter what, she can’t continue to search for a Philosopher’s Stone. At least there’s that good news.

Which is something sorely needed, as our heroes have worked out that each of these incidents were caused by or exacerbated by the military, constantly growing the country of Amestris bloody conquest by bloody conquest.

[M.G. Armstrong]: “My country…”

Sheesh. To learn that the country that you swore to protect and defend, was designed from its inception to be a massive TC? That has to hurt.

Double sheesh, a flashback to Mr. Freeze himself. The very first episode, while I cannot condone his murderous actions… he was working against the Big Bad. And Ed, way back when? What was his attitude?

Regardless, probably not the best idea to let him keep doing whatever he’s doing. But Mr. Freeze starts monologuing about how Edward’s a Dog of the Military, how his bosses have Sinister Plans- Edward cuts him off, says he doesn’t care and it’s Not His Problem. Um. What? Do… do you really not care if you’re actually working for Bad Guys?

Bleh.

M.G. Armstrong is not happy- oooooooh, crapbaskets. There’s only one circle left to be harvested on the map until the TC is complete - Briggs. Welp. I guess that explains why Sloth was digging there. So, what now?

Apparently it’s dealing with a certain TRAITOR General who’s shown up at the Fort. M.G. Armstrong has to go see what he wants. Maybe trick him into revealing some info?

There’s the jerk, Sideburns is asking him to wait until his boss comes back. Him and damnit Kimblee’s already back on his feet, and is inside Briggs with Raven now.

I guess it’s safest to put the Elrics back in their cells while Raven’s in the area, don’t want him seeing them and reporting back to Bradley. Aw, chin up Al, don’t give up on Winry’s apple pie now.

Teatime with the Traitor with a microphone in the vent, M.G. Armstrong’s talking about a “monster” who attacked yesterday. A bit of Drachma Paranoia to build your case, then name dropping the Elrics makes Raven pause. How odd that they seemed to know about the monster but refused to talk…

The Elrics, Buccy, and Falman are listening in on the mic as M.G. Armstrong… wow ok. I did not expect her to play the “oh, I’m a frail little woman who couldn’t bear to torture the boys”, to Buccy’s great amusement.

Now she’s even bemoaning not having children, that she’s… oh. Um.

She’s saying she’s growing older.

She’s admiring the immortal body of the monster that attacked her fort.

Raven is saying such a body wouldn’t be a dream very soon.

[Raven]: “Tell me, General… Would you be interested in a legion of immortal soldiers?”

The Elrics say that he took the bait, but…

I’m just looking at M.G. Armstrong’s eyes, and the growing pupils.

Um.

[writing-royza]

Royai Week: Day One: Parental!Royai

A/N: Happy Royai Day! So I keep seeing posts for this theme where it’s these two dorks having a kid… but let’s be honest, they’ve had two ever since Roy hoisted one out of a wheelchair by his shirtfront. ;)

I do not own FMA.

Passed Down for Generations

“What disturbs me is that they wouldn't give me any details over the phone,” Riza said, watching as they drew closer to the Ninth Military Police Precinct. Her hands rested on the folder in her lap, fingertips tapping lightly in a random rhythm. “I specifically asked what he had done, and the desk sergeant merely repeated that we needed to come down and hung up.”

“The MPs don’t have a lot of liking for State Alchemists or anyone closely associated with them,” Roy allowed. “We kind of tend to… operate on a different level than they do.”

“Thereby subverting their authority.” Riza smiled; it was a grievance she had heard several times in the past, usually directed toward the man in the driver’s seat. “Try and be at least a little understanding of their point of view this time, sir. I’m sure Edward will thank you for getting him out without charges being pressed for whatever he’s being held for.”

“Not likely. When was the last time the pipsqueak ever thanked me for anything?”

They parked just a few spaces shy of the wide stone steps of the precinct, emerging from the car into the early October afternoon. Riza paused by the hood of the car, waiting until Roy was half a pace past her to fall in behind him. Wordlessly, they mounted the steps to the front doors and entered.

Within was a lone woman in civilian clothes at a reception desk, and beyond that was a hive of activity – uniformed MPs hurried every whichway, calling out to each other as they went. Others plugged one ear while talking into the telephone pressed to the other, and still more scribbled on yellow legal pads. Suspects were marched to and from custody cells, followed by lawyers that added annoyed arguments to the cacophony.

Roy braced himself to have to dive headlong into this human maelstrom, stepping up to the receptionist. “Colonel Roy Mustang,” he introduced himself as she looked up. “I understand that you’re holding one of my former subordinates. I came to retrieve him.”

“Oh – the blond kid with the braid?” The lift of her eyebrows – an obvious, silent ‘yikes…’ – left no doubt what Edward’s impression on the precinct had so far been. “Detective Matheson has him in Interview One; he requested you be sent there right away when you arrived, Colonel. Go ahead.” She pointed to a hallway leading off to the right. “Third door on your left. Make sure you knock first.”

A moment later, a man in shirtsleeves and the black pants of the Military Police uniform admitted them to the small room where Edward Elric sat slouched in a chair behind a bare table. The teenager was scowling, his hands locked into the wooden stocks commonly used in incarcerating alchemists.

Riza took one look at him, then turned to Matheson. “He shouldn’t need those restraints, Detective. Edward lost the ability to perform alchemy following the Battle of Central. He can’t transmute his way out of here.”

Matheson glared at the lack of introduction or any sort of courtesy, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Maybe not, but the kid fought like hell against the arresting officers. Sent one of my men to the emergency room with a broken nose and another with two broken fingers. Those stocks stay on him, for the safety of my officers, if nothing else.”

Edward sat straight, restraints clunking against the table surface. “I already told you, I wouldn't have had to fight if your guys would've just let me explain what I was doing! But they jumped the gun, and I defended myself. Not my fault if they got a little banged up during that.”

“Enough.” Sending a warning look in Ed’s direction – and knowing full well it would go ignored – Roy stepped toward the chair across from his one-time subordinate. “Give us the room for a while, Matheson. I want his story without any of you or your people listening in, and then we’ll see what we can sort out.”

Grumbling something to himself about checking on the status of his injured men, Matheson stalked from the room, nearly slamming the door behind him. All was silent for a moment before Roy dropped into the empty chair with a sigh and a look of strained patience.

“Start talking. What happened?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ed muttered darkly. “Look, all this is is some kind of misunderstanding. In fact, it's a complete miscarriage of justice. If anything, I’m a victim.”

Riza set her file folder on the table, leaning one hip against the edge. “You’re going to have to explain that. And you didn’t answer the question. What events led to you being arrested, exactly?”

Ed fidgeted restlessly under her steady gaze. “There… may have been some disagreement between myself and a security guard at the First National Branch of the library when I asked him to let me in to the restricted materials section….” His lopsided grin was sheepish. “…I kind of forgot my access would get revoked after I filed for retirement.”

Roy frowned. “What were you trying to find in the restricted materials section?” The teenager shifted again, muttering under his breath too quietly to hear. Rolling his eyes, Roy leaned forward. “One more time for the people in the back,” he snapped, what should have been a joke coming out annoyed.

Cheeks flaring scarlet, Ed seemed to curl in on himself, his eyes clenched shut and shoulders high but his voice loud. “So I could figure out how to alchemize a diamond for an engagement ring for Winry!’

Stunned silence descended on the room. It wasn’t the outburst; Ed had always been prone to those. The confession had left both adults shocked speechless, staring first at the young man in front of them, and then at each other. Riza was the first to recover, giving her head a minute shake to clear it.

“Is… this something you and she have discussed?”

Ed nodded, some of the tension melting out of him. “Yeah, before I left. I mean… I more or less proposed on the spot, but I botched it.” He looked up. “I… kinda want to try it again, like a do-over, you know? And do it right, this time.”

Roy was still sitting stock-still, dark eyes locked on the young man. “…And so, when you tried to get into the restricted materials section and the guard turned you down?” he prompted.

“I kept trying to talk my way in,” Edward admitted. “I’ve alchemised with carbon and stuff before, but not into diamond. So if I’m gonna ask Al to transmute something like that for me, I wanted specific information for him to work from, and the only place with that information is the restricted materials section.” One shoulder raised and dropped in a shrug. “And then there was the stuff the guard said about the Promised Day.”

Suddenly alert, Roy didn’t move so much as a muscle, aside from a visible tensing in his shoulders. “And what might that have been?”

Ed made noise of disgust. “That to get mixed up in that, I had to be on the subversive side, to go against the President like that.” He scowled. “I stuck to the party line you fed the media after the battle, how we were acting in the interests of the Presidency, but he wouldn’t buy it. I got steamed and stormed out, but I guess one of the library staff had thought I’d do something more than get mad. When I got outside, the cops were just pulling up.” He slouched down in the chair, glaring at the surface of the table. “I fought them trying to take me into custody, because I didn’t belong in custody. But they dragged me down here anyway.”

“Your temper can be intimidating,” Riza allowed. Standing straight, she took the folder she’d brought and started for the door. “But it does sound like a misunderstanding. I’ll go talk to Matheson, and see if we can’t sort this out. Colonel, I might need your help. If it comes to pulling rank, you’ve got more clout than I do.”

“Right.” Getting to his feet, Roy started for the door. His tone was cool and slightly distant. “Sit tight, kid.”

---------------

Two hours later, Edward walked out of the holding area, to where Riza waited in the precinct entryway. She eyed him carefully as he approached. “You didn’t have anything on you when they brought you in?”

The boy shook his head. “Just the clothes on my back and my wallet. And my notebook.” He fished in the pocket of his coat and produced the latter. “They told me they wouldn’t be pressing charges, not even for resisting arrest, and I probably deserve at least that one.” He watched her curiously. “How did you talk them out of it?”

Riza smiled, turning toward the door. “I pointed out to Matheson that bringing charges resulting from a misunderstanding against a young man who has otherwise done quite a bit for the sake of his country would be both a waste of time and resources as well as, as you said, a miscarriage of justice. In the end, he just really didn’t want to deal with the paperwork.”

“I see.” Stepping out onto the front steps, Edward glanced around the street. “Where did the Colonel disappear to?”

“Once your release was secured, except for the formalities, he went to go pick something up.” She nodded to where the familiar black sedan was coming up the street, already signalling to pull into an empty parking space. “He said you might find it useful. Go on.”

Throwing her a puzzled glance, Edward headed down the steps, reaching the passenger-side window of the car just as Roy killed the engine. Bending, the blond boy leaned on the window frame. “Thanks for getting me out,” he said, without preamble. “Especially when you had to take the time to come down here.”

“It’s no trouble. But I figure this means you owe me.” Watching him steadily, with a slight smirk, Roy reached for a pocket. “And there’s one more thing.”

Surprised, Ed barely caught the box the older man tossed to him, briefly fumbling the black velvet. “What the —” Gold eyes widened as he realized what he held, before he carefully pried it open. Inside, was a slim gold band with a single diamond in a raised claw setting. “I — how did — what’s this?”

Roy grinned. “It’s not the stone you spent four years searching for, but this one will probably do more for you in the long run. And will probably prevent you from getting arrested for trying to access restricted materials.”

Eyes wide, Ed looked from the ring, to him… and then turned back to the woman still standing the top of the precinct steps, not paying the slightest attention to him. “But… isn’t this for—”

“The only person it’s for is a young automail mechanic in Resembool,” Roy said firmly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Since you’ve lost your State alchemist title and the funding to go with it, you’ve had to keep a tighter leash on your wallet and so you can’t afford to go spending a ton of money on a ring.”

He pointed to the box in Edward’s hands. “That was my biological mother’s, and my adoptive mother gave it to me. It’s been lying around my apartment for years.” He shrugged, the pointing hand turning into a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “I figured you could put it to good use.”

Having mostly recovered, Edward snapped the box shut, sliding it into his coat pocket. “And what about if you find some girl you would have given it to?” He smirked. “Are you going to want it back?”

“Of course not.” The answering smirk was taunting. “I’ve still got my funding. I didn’t retire.” He waved a dismissing hand. “Call Hawkeye over and then get in. We’ll give you a ride back to wherever you’re staying.”

“Sure. But just one more thing.” Ed grinned. “Did you say you’re adopted?”

---------------

When his phone rang that evening, he wasn’t surprised when the first words after he answered were “You did a very important thing for him today. You should be proud of yourself.”

Smiling, he leaned back on the couch. “Thanks. I wondered if you realized what had happened.” The smile faded. “You think I did the right thing?”

“Of course. With his father gone, you’re the next closest thing to a male parental figure he’s got. Helping him out the way you did goes beyond officer and subordinate; what you did for him shows that he’s more or less family.” She hesitated, then added. “Besides, it’s better that that ring be put to use, rather than hidden away in a drawer for who knows how long.”

“That’s pretty much what I told him.” Roy shifted, uneasy. “With my ambitions… a life like his isn’t exactly in the immediate future.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she said gently. “But maybe one day.”

“One day,” he agreed. He was quiet a moment, then, “Though if I was acting in some kind of parental role, so were you. Swooping in to get him out of whatever trouble he’d blundered into, gently correcting him on where he’d gone wrong, but still being supportive? That takes some doing.”

“I get plenty of practice,” Riza answered dryly. “I work for you, don’t I?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, dropping his head back against the couch cushions. “You wound me, Lieutenant,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Will I at least get a kiss-it-better? That’s motherly, isn’t it?”

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes in time with her smile. “I’ve said what I called to say, sir,” she said, putting sarcastic emphasis on his honourific. “Good night.”

[yespleasefandomtrash]

AlMei Week 2017 - Hair/Travel

In this chapter you get see a few pieces of the puzzle start to fall together! Hopefully now you want to read it. Enjoy Day 4: Hair/Travel. Each prompt is addressed here, but briefly, and at the end and the beginning respectively (give or take).

Read this chapter on fanfiction.net here.

Read Day 3 here.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

xXxXxXx

Mei tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Alphonse to arrive at the station. It wasn’t that he was running late – if anything, she was excessively early – but she just felt unusually jumpy. At first she’d thought she was being watched or something of the sort, but quickly dismissed the idea as ludicrous. The more likely reason was that she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, which was unfortunately far too accurate.

Nightmares had tormented her. They flashed between Alphonse’s and Winry’s and Ling’s and even Edward’s dead bodies, all gruesomely stabbed to death like the victims of the serial killer. Despite how mature she considered herself to be, Mei knew that there was no way she’d ever be able to perform an autopsy on any of them. Ever. No matter what the circumstances were.

She shuddered. The thought made her nauseous.

She glanced at the watch on her wrist. There was still another thirty or so minutes before the train would leave. She was tempted to board then and there – anything to take her mind off her dreams from the night before – but knew she couldn’t just abandon Alphonse.

“Mei!”

The Xingese woman turned upon hearing her name, and a relieved smile broke out across her face when she saw a certain blonde Amestrian heading towards her. “Good morning to you, too, Alphonse.”

“I hope I’m not too late,” he apologized. “I overslept this time around. In my defense, however, it was Ed who ‘accidentally’ threw the alarm clock into the wall.”

Mei laughed, her depressed mood disappearing quickly now that Alphonse had arrived. “Don’t worry, you’re good – and I don’t even want to know how he tried to claim that was an ‘accident.’”

“Let’s just say he wasn’t very convincing,” Alphonse chuckled. “Anyways, at least I’ve finally arrived. Are you ready to board?”

“Obviously,” she smirked, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been here for ages now.”

The blonde flinched. “Wow. Way to make me feel guilty.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Oh please. Don’t blame me – you’re guilt-tripping yourself here. Let’s go.”

xXxXxXx

The train ride in itself was relatively uneventful. Being that it was so early in the morning and the fact that it was a weekday, few people were riding. On the bright side, it meant that the two had nearly an entire car to themselves.

Mei realized she had brought absolutely nothing to do – excepting paperwork, of course, which she could only work on for so long before it felt as if her brain was dying –, but thankfully Alphonse had thought to bring a deck of cards. The games got pretty intense.

But the trip was not a particularly long one, and in just over an hour they’d arrived at the station and were making their way into the town.

“Alright,” Mei said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket. “I’ve written down Mrs. Hughes’ address on here. And although I want to go there right now...” She laughed awkwardly. “It’s barely six o’ clock right now. That’s a bit early.”

Alphonse snorted. “Right. Just a bit.”

“Ha ha.”

“I know. I’m hilarious.” He looked around. “Since it’s only a few minutes after six, want to get some breakfast? I’m sure there’s somewhere we can get some food from.”

Mei hesitated. When she’d woken up that morning she’d had no appetite – her nightmares had made sure of that. But she was feeling better, so... “Why not?”

After only ten minutes of searching they found a quaint little place that actually happened to serve breakfast all day, though it wasn’t necessary in their case. The two ordered their food, but quickly felt an awkward silence fall upon them when the waitress left.

Mei felt blood rush to her cheeks. Was this a date? Or just a casual outing with a close friend? Something awkwardly in between?

Unfortunately, the latter seemed to be the most likely..

Unable to stand the silence, Mei reached under her chair where she’d placed a small briefcase and opened it, pulling out a thick stack of papers. “Let’s go over what we know with this case.”

Alphonse chuckled. “What we know, or what we suspect?”

She smirked at him. “Hmm. Well, how about both?” The first page was a general summary of Hughes’ autopsy report that Riza had managed to obtain and had then faxed to her. “We know for certain that Hughes’ death was caused by the gunshot, not being stabbed. According to this it basically punctured his heart. We assume he was killed instantaneously, though there’s always the minuscule possibility he managed to survive for a few seconds after.”

“And after he died it’s likely the killer propped his body up in the phone booth,,” Alphonse continued. “Do you know if he died outside of it, though? Or was he on the floor inside?”

Mei flipped through the folder to the image of Hughes body that also showed much of the area surrounding it. “Hmm...” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Based on the amount of blood inside the booth, I think he was shot in there and then fell to the floor. After that our killer probably sat him up.”

“Why would they bother doing that?”

She shrugged in response. “Who knows? I can’t pretend to ever understand why sociopaths do what they do. My best guess is that there may have been some kind of evidence that would have been left behind had they not moved the body.”

“Maybe another print of some sort.”

“It’s certainly possible.”

“And like the other victims, he was stabbed a total of six times,” Alphonse continued. “But you suspect three of the wounds were created before he died.” He glanced up at her from the photograph he was studying. “I don’t think you’ve told me what made you think that. Like, what sent those red flags to you.”

Mei blinked. “Oh. You’re right. I don’t think I have.” She shuffled through the photos Fuery had provided them with until she found the close up of Hughes’ wounds. “Alright. Look at this.” She pointed to the three stab wounds with blood clotting around them. “If these had been made after his death, the blood shouldn’t be clotting. It would have continued to flow. This implies they’re premortem.”

Alphonse frowned. “How do you know the blood isn’t just dried?”

She bit her lip. “Technically speaking, I don’t, which is we really need to exhume his body. But many of the factors wouldn’t add up to the blood being able to dry in the first place. For one, the night he died was unusually humid – wet air would slow the process of blood drying. The paper Riza sent me also says Hughes was discovered approximately twenty minutes after his death. That’s not much time for blood to dry. Also, the other three don’t have dried blood around them – so why would these?”

He nodded. “I see. Then it is rather unusual for there to be blood like that.”

“Exactly. But, as I said, I can’t be completely sure until I perform an autopsy.” The Xingese woman sighed. “What I really want are valid suspects. Because right now we have none whatsoever. Luxure has an alibi, we have no real reason to suspect Neid besides instinct, and I’d swear a hundred times over in court that Yoki didn’t do it.”

Alphonse frowned before a smirk slowly crept onto his features. “I’d say we have a little more of a probable cause to suspect Neid than just instinct.”

She raised a brow at his comment. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Mismanagement of a crime scene.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, she burst out laughing. “That’s very true, isn’t it?” She absentmindedly examined the photo of Hughes’ body. “That Neid guy really seemed off to me. His whole attitude reeked of something bad.”

“Maybe he needed a shower.”

Mei whacked the blonde with the folder. “I’m going to ask you to shut up, sir. I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”

Alphonse chuckled. “My bad. But I agree – he was definitely radiating suspicious vibes.”

“Yoki mentioned that he couldn’t tell whether the person who left with what we assume was Hughes’ autopsy report was a man or woman, and Neid seemed pretty androgynous to me, so...” She shrugged. “Not a defining factor, but something we shouldn’t dismiss immediately.”

“Most attorneys don’t have a case without circumstantial evidence,” he reminded her. “It’s always good to keep an open mind.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I want some concrete evidence as well. As soon as we’re able to get a court order and have Mrs. Hughes’ permission, I will dig Maes Hughes’ body up myself if I have to.”

The conversation ceased for a moment as their food was placed down in front of them. After thanking the waitress they watched until they were certain she was out of earshot before continuing.

“I want to examine his wounds first, clearly,” Mei said, taking a bite of the omelet she’d ordered. “The sooner I’m able to look those over those, the better. I’ll also check his body for trace evidence, but I doubt there will be any.”

“You can also see if there’s any DNA underneath his fingernails,” Alphonse suggested. “He might have put up fight.”

“The paper Riza sent me said that they found nothing, but I can’t say I trust the government as far as I can throw them. So I’ll definitely check.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m going to do everything that requires in-depth work before I check for latent prints, since the glue used can destroy trace evidence and might interfere with his wounds.” Mei snapped her fingers, putting her fork down to grab the close up of Hughes’ body. “I forgot to show you this. These three wounds. The ones I suspect are premortem.”

“What about them?”

“If you look carefully, they seem to be a slightly different shape then the others. It’s possible they were made by a different weapon.”

Alphonse frowned as he examined the photo. Then his eyes widened. “I see what you mean. The edges appear to be different on the sets of wounds.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, relieved he hadn’t dismissed her conclusion. “The three I suspect to be postmortem are much smoother compared to the other three, which are more jagged.”

“The ones with smooth edges almost look as if they were made by a sort of spear,” the Amestrian mused. “Interesting choice of weapon.”

Mei couldn’t help but laugh at his thoughts. “I’d say they align more with that of an ice pick or a similarly slender tool, but I do understand where you’re coming from.”

He flushed at her statement. “Right. That makes a bit more sense.” His phone dinged, distracting him. “One sec.” He pulled it from his pocket and swiped, eye moving as he read the message on the screen. “Well, we’ve got some good news,” he said, a broad smile forming on his lips. “Ed managed to get a court order for us to exhume Hughes body!”

Mei beamed. “Perfect! Under what grounds?”

“Incomplete autopsy.”

She laughed. “Well, that’s close to enough to the truth.”

“Now all we need to do is get Mrs. Hughes permission,” Alphonse said as he tucked his cell phone away. “I don’t about you, but I’m just about ready to head to her house.”

Mei’s eyes sparkled. “Do you even have to ask?”

xXxXxXx

“You’re completely sure this is the right place?”

“Mei, you’re the one who gave me directions – which I followed exactly. Shouldn’t I be asking you if we’re at the right place?”

The Xingese doctor rolled her eyes in response. “You’re so funny, Alphonse. Been hilarious the entire day.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” Mei took a deep breath before walking to the doorstep and rapping sharply on the wooden door, silently trying to figure out how to explain to the poor woman what exactly she needed to do with her husband’s body.

The door creaked as it slowly opened, revealing a little girl with dirty blonde pigtails and bright green eyes. “What do you want?” she said suspiciously, crossing her arms over her chest. “My mommy’s tired right now so it better be important.”

“You must be Elicia,” Mei said as warmly as she could muster. “Elicia, I need to speak with your mother – it’s very important. Could you tell her Doctor Chang would like to see her?”

“And Alphonse Elric,” her Amestrian companion added.

Elicia’s eyes narrowed before she marched off into her house.

“Well, that was an interesting first encounter,” Alphonse remarked. “She’s a cute little girl, though.”

Mei nodded, though she’d only been halfway listening to him. It felt as if a mixture of guilt and anxiety were eating away at the inside of her stomach, and she was absolutely petrified of how she was going to talk to Gracia Hughes. She wanted to tell the woman the truth about how necessary it was to exhume he husband’s body, but wanted to soften the blow at least to a certain extent, and –

“Are you Doctor Chang?”

Mei felt a quiet squeak escape her lips. “Y-Yes ma’am. I am.”

Gracia Hughes was a tall and rather slender woman with short brown hair and warm eyes. “Let’s not talk out here,” she said, stepping out of the doorway. “Come on in. I’ve just put some tea on the stove.”

Mei followed her into the house, Alphonse right behind them. Gracia led the two to the main room, where Elicia was playing with building blocks in the corner.

“Please, sit down,” she said kindly. “I’ll be right back.”

They did as instructed, sitting next to each other on the couch.

“You seem a bit tense,” Alphonse murmured to her. “You sure you don’t want me to do the talking?”

Mei shook her head. “No. It was my idea to exhume his body, and I’m the one who will be performing the autopsy. I have to be the one to explain it.”

He hesitated, but nodded. “Alright.” He took her hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. “You’ve got this.”

She smiled softly, too anxious to be flustered. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later Gracia returned carrying a tray with three steaming cups of tea resting on top of it. “It’s green tea,” she said apologetically. “I did put a little honey in it, though.” She handed them each a cup before taking her own and sitting down in a chair across from them. “So what do you need, Doctor Chang?”

Mei bit her lip. “This might be a bit difficult for you to hear, Mrs. Hughes...” She ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry. I don’t know how to put this.”

Gracia smiled at her, and despite being warm it was also tired. “It’s fine, Doctor Chang. I know who you are and what your study lies in. In fact, I have a feeling I know why you’re here.”

Mei blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“I assume it’s about my husband’s death.”

Mei hesitated, then nodded. “To some extent, yes. Mrs. Hughes...” She took a deep breath, then said it. “I’d like your permission to exhume your husband’s body in order to perform a second autopsy.”

Gracia’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“We have reason to believe his first autopsy was deliberately performed incorrectly,” the Xingese woman explained. “He was the only victim of the serial killer who was not sent to my office, his autopsy report that I received from the FBI was stolen from me, and there are many inconsistencies in what we’ve heard from people who worked the scene compared to the pictures and basic report we managed to get together.”

Gracia placed her hand over her mouth. “You must be joking.”

Mei laughed bitterly. “If only, Mrs. Hughes.”

Silence filled the room, the only exception being the light taps that echoed from the corner of the room as Elicia stacked blocks together.

Gracia placed her cup down, her hands quivering. “Doctor Chang...”

“Ma’am?”

“If... If you exhume my husband’s body, will you be able to find out who killed him? And who killed all those other innocent people?”

Mei blinked in surprise, not expecting such a question. “I mean, I can’t make any promises, Mrs. Hughes, but –”

“Doctor Chang.” Gracia’s tone was a combination of stoic and pleading. “Tell me the truth.”

Mei didn’t know what to do. Was the woman referring to the real truth, or the truth she wanted to hear?

“Please.”

That sealed it.

“Mrs. Hughes, it is certainly possible that I will be able to track down your husband’s killer,” Mei said, “but on the other side of the coin, there is a chance I will not be able to do so. Trace evidence has almost certainly been removed from his body, and it’s highly unlikely I will find any DNA on him. But I may be able to find latent prints, and I suspect there’s some sort of value to be found within his wounds – I’m just not sure what.”

Gracia’s fingers were laced together and her entire body tense.

Alphonse spoke. “Mrs. Hughes. Mei Chang is not only the most skilled chief medical examiner I’ve ever met, but also an excellent detective. Anyone else would have reported the loss of the autopsy report and never thought about it again. She not only reported it missing, but helped find information about who might have taken it – including going to the FBI and continuing to ask questions there. And upon finding out that something was off about your husband’s death and that the government is somehow involved with it, she still continued to search for answers. I nearly drank a bottle of water mixed with cyanide that was meant for her – and she still refuses to give up. Trust me, Mrs. Hughes. She knows what she’s doing.”

Mei was speechless. Alphonse made her stubbornness and refusal to submit to the government sound almost revolutionary, when in reality there was no way it was even close to being that awe-inspiring.

Gracia sighed, carefully picking up her tea and staring into it. “My husband was a good man, you know. He loved Elicia and I more than anything else. There were times when I wondered if I really deserved him. When the news of his death was brought to my door I fainted on the spot.” She laughed half-heartedly. “Can you believe it?” She sighed a second time. “I was in shock. But above all else I wanted the person who murdered him caught. I wanted them to rot in prison for the rest of their days. The FBI agents who were working the case at the time assured me that they’d be able to catch the killer in no time.” Her grip tightened on the cup. “They lied. They lied because the person who killed my husband is someone within their ranks.” She stared at Mei, her green eyes fierce and yet lined with tears. “I know you can catch them, Doctor Chang. I’m sure of it.”

Mei smiled at the woman, certain her own eyes were brimming with tears as well. “I will. I promise.”

xXxXxXx

“That was quite the promise you made.”

The two were on the train back to Xing.

Mei sighed. “I know. I just hope I can keep it.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Mei hesitated, before slowly asking, “Alphonse... Did you mean what you said? About how I know what I’m doing and all that?”

Alphonse stared at the Xingese woman in surprise. “Of course I did. Why?”

A small, relieved smile fell on her lips. “No reason.”

Silence fell between them, neither one inclined to break it. It wasn’t awkward – simply there. Almost like a calm.

And calm it was – until Alphonse’s phone rang, startling the duo out of their reveries.

The Amestrian quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and answered. “Hello?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “Havoc? Is something wrong?” He paused. “Are you sure?” He sighed. “Alright. One moment, please.” He moved the phone from his ear and covered the mouthpiece before turning towards Mei. “Havoc wants to talk to you. It’s about Luxure.”

Mei’s eyes widened before narrowing in suspicion. “Alright.” She accepted the phone. “Good morning, Havoc.”

“It’s still morning?” There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “This day is moving by way too slowly.”

“Was there something you needed to speak to me about?”

“Right. Do you remember how I said Luxure and I were together the entire time three – four, now – nights ago?”

“I do.”

“Well, I was wrong. I forgot that around eleven at night she left to visit a friend or something, and didn’t return until almost two in the morning.”

Mei’s eyes widened. “Are you completely certain she was gone during that time?”

“Yes. Positive.”

“Thank you for notifying me of this, Havoc. You have no idea how helpful you’ve just been.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Mei’s heart sank as she heard the depressed tone in his voice. Whether Luxure was guilty or not, she may have just destroyed Havoc’s relationship with her. “Havoc...”

“I’ve got to go now, Doc. I’m glad I was able to help.”

She slowly handed the phone back to Alphonse, guilt weighing down on her chest. But what could she have done?

“Ed,” Alphonse said, not noticing Mei’s distress. “Do you know when a team will be sent to exhume Hughes’ body? Yes, we got Gracia’s permission.” His eyes widened. “Really? That’s going to be a definite help. Thanks for telling me. I’ll give you a call if there’s anything else we need.” He hung up. “Mei, I’ve got some good news – Hughes’ body is being exhumed as we speak. You might be able to perform the autopsy sometime this evening.”

“What?” she said, shocked. “Really?!”

“Yep.”

“Oh, this is brilliant!” The Xingese doctor grabbed the briefcase off the seat to her left and opened it, grabbing each and every sheet of paper within it. “I need to go over all the details of the case again. I want everything to be as fresh in my mind as it can.”

Alphonse rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I should have known.”

xXxXxXx

Mei held the door to the morgue open while Winry pushed the cart with Hughes body lying on it inside. Alphonse had offered to help, but Winry had refused – she’d been doing this for almost two years, after all. Instead Alphonse carried the bag that had been buried with Hughes into the room and set it on a side table.

“Alright,” Mei said, pulling on gloves and switching on the light above the body. “Let’s get started.”

The two girls began the long process of reverting Hughes to the state he’d been in before the funeral. That included undressing him, removing the glass caps from beneath his eyelids, and scrubbing the makeup from his face. Alphonse simply stood to the side and watched, not wanting to interfere.

Mei frowned as his wounds were revealed. “Why wasn’t the blood cleaned off his body?” A closer look revealed that it had been – but only in part. Dried blood still lined the edges of two of the wounds. “That’s rather odd.”

“But not unheard of,” Winry added, acting as the voice of reason. “If his autopsy was rushed and likely ‘forged’ as we suspect, then it makes sense that they wouldn’t bother to do a complete job.”

“Fair enough,” Mei conceded. “Can you grab the camera and take pictures? Get as much detail as you can in it.”

“Roger that.”

Mei started examining the gunshot wound in Hughes chest. Despite that he’d been in the ground for a few days, it was obvious to her experienced eye that the bullet had been the cause of his death and not the stab wounds. The government was not lying about that.

She noticed Winry had finished photographing the stab wounds and moved down to examine them in greater detail while her assistant moved to take pictures of the gunshot.

Just as in the images Fuery had given them, the three wounds she suspected to be premortem did not match the ones she considered postmortem. They also varied slightly in shape.

“They have to be from a different weapon,” she murmured. “There’s no way they’re the same.” The Xingese woman turned to face Alphonse. “Can you open the bag that was buried with Hughes? I have a sneaking suspicion I know what’s in it.”

The blonde officer nodded before carefully undoing the rope that kept the sack shut. After making sure his gloves were on completely, he removed a small knife from the bag, dried blood still coating the bottom half.

Mei took it from him and compared it to the wounds on Hughes’ body.

To her surprise, however, it did not match.

“What?” she said, confused. “How can it not...” She trailed off, her eyes widening. She spun on her heel. “Winry. I need you to test the blood on this knife and get a DNA sample.”

Winry frowned. “Why?”

“Because I don��t think this blood belongs to Hughes.”

Winry’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.” She accepted the knife. “I’ll be right back.”

“Why do you think that blood isn’t Hughes’?” Alphonse asked curiously.

“For one, the edges on that knife don’t match up to the ones one his body,” Mei pointed out. “I’d bet some naive officer found it at the crime scene and put it in the wrong bag.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because everything else in that bag was a personal item of Hughes’, wasn’t it?” After seeing Alphonse nod, she laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. Do you have any idea how lucky we are that knife happened to be in the bag?”

Alphonse whistled. “That could certainly help progress this case.”

“Oh, you bet it could,” she agreed. “Anyways – I need to finish looking over him before I cut him open.”

The Amestrian flinched. “Thanks for that image.”

“You’re very welcome.” Mei picked up a magnifying class and slowly continued to examine the stab wounds. Minutes later, Winry ran back into the morgue.

“I’ve got some very interesting news for you, Mei,” she said, blue eyes gleaming in the bright light of the morgue. “You were right – this blood is not that of Maes Hughes. And guess what?” She held up a small plastic bag. “I found a hair stuck in it. Long, dark hair. And it doesn’t look like Hughes’ at all under the microscope.”

Mei and Alphonse exchanged excited looks.

“Were you able to find out whose DNA it is?” Mei asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Winry frowned.

“Alphonse?”

“Yes?”

“Call your brother and have him get DNA and hair samples from Luxure and Neid.”

“Way ahead of you, Mei.”

xXxXxXx

I have no idea how Winry got DNA results back so quickly. Story magic, I suppose.  I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be back tomorrow with Day 5: Adventure/Home!

Read Day 5 here.

[arrowsbane]

Okay, so there is something to be said for not eating cheese before falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun, because as fun as it sounds, it can mean for some seriously weird dreams. I am 1000% blaming @shanastoryteller for this, because right before I dozed off, I read this post here that she wrote and it hit a wall, turned 90 degrees east and ran off into the sunset of hell half-frozen over.

So. First let me tell you this, I am not writing this as a fic. Just no. It’s bad enough as it is. Also, while I’m somewhat known for genderbending, I am not really a fan of Fem!Ed. Kind like how I can’t handle Fem!Yuuri from YOI. It’s just… these precious babies are perfect just the way they are and I cannot bear to change them. But, I am down with reading Fem!Ed if there is a reason – like… gender reassignment. (See the aforementioned post). Or maybe Truth just likes to fuck with Ed. Idek.

So. On with the insanity:

So. For some reason, poor Edward Elric is a girl born in a boy’s body. Or maybe he’s just a boy who is more at home in the female shape. I don’t know okay. I’ve always been comfortable exactly as I am, and I’m not going to insult anybody by pretending that I know everything. The point is - Edward is not comfortable in his own skin. Edward knows that his body is somehow wrong. And he’s smart, and brilliant, and a goddamn whiz with Alchemy. And so is Al, who just wants Ed to be happy, no matter what.

So, crazy brilliant brightsparks that they are – with a supernova burning in place of a soul, and the universe in their eyes – they draw up a circle, and Ed goes before Truth.

Truth, of course, isn’t too happy at being faced with a tiny scowling boy who insists that he is a girl; but Truth does understand that sometimes bodies can be uncomfortable at best, and soul-destroying at the worst of times, and this insanely brilliant child is going to be the source of a shit-ton of entertainment for years to come.

So Truth helps.

For shits and giggles, because why not.

...

Trisha is… understandably puzzled. She went to bed the night before, a mother of two sons, and then woke up with a son and a daughter.

Um, what?

They are grounded. Of course they are. Origami cranes are one thing, but this? What were you thinking? You could have been rendered braindead, you could have blown up the house. Or the universe. You could have died!

It should be noted that Trisha ranks her kids’ lives above that of the universe continuing to turn, and reality not peeling apart at the seams.

As any mother rightly should.

...

Time passes, as it is wont to do, and Edward grows into a lovely young woman with a talent for mass destruction and reconstruction.

(although, it must be said that when puberty came rolling around, there were more than a few curses, and Ed had to be physically stopped from reopening the Gate in order to yell at Truth. Because Fuck you asshole!)

Officially, her name is Elizabeth on all the paperwork, but here’s the thing: Ed might be a girl now, but she never stopped being Ed. You can change your shape, but you can’t change who you are. And hell, Ed loves confusing the fuck out of people when she introduces herself as Edward.

[Teacher didn’t discourage this. If anything, she encouraged it.]

It becomes a joke – wherever she goes (and Al is with her, because in what universe would he not be? Don’t answer that. Because that probably means Al is dead in that universe and you can all go to hell before you hurt my little cinnamon roll), leaving chaos and destruction and generally uprooting tyrants for fun; leaving only the whispers of a red coat, long blonde hair and the names Edward and Alphonse Elric: Alchemist Extraordinaires’.

...

[Somewhere in the East, Roy Mustang is tearing his hair out trying to track down a pair of genius brothers. Here’s a hint: It’s not going so well.]

...

Now this? This is not love story for Roy and Ed, oh no. My weird ass dream is twisted, and somehow, I love it. Even though I don’t ship this…

So. It’s summer, and it’s bright, and Edward is now… what? Seventeen? Eighteen? Who cares? The point is, there’s a massive inter-village party going on, and alcohol is involved. She dances the night away, laughing madly the whole time and winds up going for a roll in the hay with a charming chap from two villages over who’s on leave from the military. Not her usual choice, but hey – he’s funny and he pulled out her chair for her, and calls her “ma’am”, and he made her laugh. He also turns out to be brilliant in the sack, so hey – Ed reckons she made a good choice of partner for the night.

She wakes up to a lazy grin, and work-roughened fingers gently teasing straw and dried grass out of her tangled mess of hair – because I’m not joking about the phrase ‘roll in a hay’. It’s round about then that she realizes she forgot to introduce herself, and so she holds out her hand, “Elizabeth,” She tells him. Because hey, he did good last night. He did more than good. She can play nice.

“Havoc,” He replies, shaking her hand, “Jean Havoc.”

Ed fucking laughs at him.

“What?” She asks, “You gonna tell me that you’ve got three brothers called Mischief, Chaos and Trouble?”

He laughs as well, and they’re both still laughing when they tumble over each other and go straight for round two.

...

On and off, the whole summer, these two wind up together. In bed, at dinner, just generally wandering about causing trouble. And then Havoc has to go back to work.

And dammit, Ed finds that she’s missing him. What the hell? Ed doesn’t do pining. She does quick flings, and moves the fuck on. But apparently not anymore.

Al figures it out before she does.

And then when she does, he sits her down and listens while she rants and raves, and curses Havoc out because she did not plan on falling in love. I mean, yeah, she’s got plans to be a Housewife someday, because Teacher was ah-mazing and all that – but no. She had not planned on marrying a military guy. Why would she? The military is E-vil. (And wow, Ed has no idea just how right she is there).

So Ed hmms over it for weeks and then she gets that stubborn look in her eyes, packs her bags, and scoots off down to East City because dammit, she’s getting married. Whether he likes it or not.

Al and Winry are cheering her on, and Trisha isn’t really sure what’s going on anymore.

(Yes, Trisha got ill and shit, but Ed got even more stubborn and kinda maybe might have been more interested in Alchemy and it’s healing properties in this ‘verse, and yeah, she paid a bit more attention when she met Truth. She doesn’t know it yet, but she gave something in trade to the Gate. There’s a reason she doesn’t have Daddy Issues here – she doesn’t even remember him. There’s nothing left to hate.)

...

Ed shows up in a hurricane of energy and barges her way back into Havoc’s life without so much as a by-your-leave. He’s not really complaining. Not even when she storms up to him in a bar when he’s out for a night with the boys, yanks him down by his collar, and tells him that they’re getting married.

“Um… Don’t I get a say in this?” He asks, blinking down at her. Her hair is a mess, and she’s breathing heavily from beating the tar out of a guy outside because he tried to put his hands where they weren’t welcome – but goddamn, she’s still the most beautiful thing Havoc’s ever seen, and in all honesty, his question isn’t so much a “no,” as a bemused “oh really now?”.

Ed straight up growls at him, and he laughs, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder.

“Oi! Breda!” He shouts down the bar, “Get your coat, I’m getting married.”

Breda chokes on his drink, and then he starts to laugh. “This I gotta see.”

...

So they get married in an office, with a half-sober Breda and some random person they grabbed off the street as witnesses.

Havoc’s collar is unbuttoned, he smells of beer and cigarette smoke. Ed is wearing jeans and a tank top, her hair is a tangled mess of gold and there’s dirt smeared on her left shoulder.

They don’t have any family members there, and Ed makes their rings out of her earrings and Havoc’s watch. But that’s okay. Trisha and Elaine can yell at their kids for eloping at a later date. And then ask about grandchildren in the next breath. Al will laugh himself sick, and Winry will demand to be Godmother when they get around to it.

Not that they plan to – I mean, practicing making the future babies is fun and all, but neither of them want kids just yet.

...

More time passes, and you know what? It works for them.

Ed is a freaking genius who sometimes gets so into her work that she forgets to eat or do the dishes, but that’s just fine because Havoc grew up on a farm where folk did whatever needed doing. So he cooks, and coaxes food into her. He washes dishes, and folds laundry, and he’s even brave enough to pull her away from her books for long enough to get her to sleep.

And then once she’s done with her bender, Ed spends days making it up to him. Because she’s a hundred percent the kind of person who gives stuff her all.

Havoc doesn’t understand one whit of what she’s doing, but hey, it makes her happy. He doesn’t need to know anything more than that.

…

The first time he accidentally catches sight of her notes over her shoulder, he thinks she’s going to kill him, because Alchemists are nothing if insanely secretive of their work.

But hey, no, not Ed. Not with her husband.

She smiles at him, and then yanks him down onto the floor next to her.

And then she starts explaining the basics to him.

…

Because here’s the truth. Ed’s been worrying over Havoc’s complete obliviousness to alchemic circles for a while now, especially seeing as he’s almost always on the team chasing the crazy (in a bad way) alchemists – and dammit, she wants him in one piece. So come hell or high water, she’s going to make sure he knows what is safe and what means he should be hightailing it out of there.

…

The next time he’s closing up a case with the team – a crazy wannabe alchemist had been messing with the structural integrity of a building, and was also apparently a complete and utter moron, because even he knows better than to use those two particular equations in conjunction together.

He says as much, and is treated to looks of utter amazement and disbelief from his teammates.

“What?” He asks, “I know stuff.”

Breda is sniggering behind his back, because unlike the others, he was there when Havoc married the crazy alchemist lady. Come to think of it… Breda might be the only one on the team who even knows that he’s married. Oops.

He really hopes that Hawkeye doesn’t shoot him for this.

…

So yeah, things go fine. Mostly.

Havoc learns when to run away from the crazies, and Ed wanders off with Al to save the world, or sometimes just turns entire cities on their heads by sticking her nose where she shouldn’t – see Youswell, Liore, ect…

And all the while, Mustang rages over the antics of the famous Elric Brothers.

…

It’s actually rather pathetic, and it takes Havoc a long time to put the pieces together.

He’s more than a little bit embarrassed to be honest.

Mustang is halfway through a rant on how Liore has descended into chaos – two raging factions; and Havoc’s eyeing the pin-board, feeling strung out and an odd sense of de ja vu.

Penny in the air?

Huh. Wasn’t Ed in Liore the week before last?

Penny drops.

Oh. Havoc thinks. Oh, shit.

He’s so used to her going by her legal name in public – because while Edward Elric writes alchemical papers and rescues kittens from trees, it’s Elizabeth Havoc who fails epically at knitting, burns scones and actually has a bank account – that he forgot (and wow, is she going to laugh herself sick tonight) that when she’s off gallivanting across the country with Al, she uses her birth name.

Son of a –

He’s been trying to track down his wife and brother-in-law the whole time.

The wife who sleeps in his bed, and the brother-in-law who camps out on their couch.

How is this even his life?

…

Ed does indeed laugh herself sick that night.

Mean.

…

He reckons that he should probably tell Mustang, if only to save Eastern Command from being set on fire the next time the Colonel loses his temper, but hey – Havoc likes living.

So he sleeps on it.

And he sleeps on it.

And he sleeps on it.

Eventually, Friday rolls around, and Ed is giving him that look – the kind that says ‘man up, or I’m buggering off to cause mass chaos and destruction without you,’ and so Havoc swallows his pride.

That day at work, he waits until Mustang is once again ranting on about the Elric Brothers, and then, carefully, warily, pipes up with: “So, um, Chief? I might have a lead.”

Mustang freezes, and then pivots.

Ack. He looks like he might breathe fire at any moment.

“What?”

Havoc gulps. And then he starts to fidget.

“Well, actually,” he admits, “it’s my wife that you’d be wanting to talk to, sir.”

Mustang looks at him like’s gone mental.

“You’re… married?”

“Yes?”

“She’s way too good for him,” Breda snickers, leaning back in his chair.

Mustang blinks, frowns, blinks some more, and then moves his mouth soundlessly for a few moments, clearly furious.

Then, finally, he grinds out a short command of “Call her.”

“Yes sir!” Havoc yelps, diving for the phone line and praying that Ed is at home.

She is.

And she’s more than happy to come down to Command and set the record straight.

She’ll even bring Al with her.

Havoc sort of wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

...

Ed glides into the office, all grace and charm, looking exactly as people would expect an innocent modern-day country housewife to appear. Her blonde hair is carefully braided up into a milkmaid’s style, and there’s a touch of flour dusting the hem of her peasant’s blouse.

Havoc feels like he’s in the twilight zone, because she’s even wearing makeup. Since when does his wild dustdevil of a wife wear makeup?

Al catches his eye and winks – he himself is dressed in neatly pressed clothes and sporting a pair of glasses (why? He doesn’t even need them for fucks sake?) and looks the textbook image of a wet-behind-the-ears scholar who probably couldn’t even find his way out of a paper bag.

“Mrs. Havoc,” Mustang smiles, offering her a seat, with his charm turned up to eleven.

“Hello,” Ed smiles, and there’s a devilsh look in her deceptively innocent topaz eyes, “Edward Elric, at your service.”

She sweeps into a genteel bow, and then gestures to Al.

“Alphonse Elric,” Al grins. “Nice to meet you.”

Havoc sorely wishes he’d called in sick that morning.

…

So… Okay. He’s probably going to die.

Mustang practically has a fit, and Hawkeye’s hand is on her gun, which means Havoc has to try really hard not to flinch.

Once he’s done making a series of choking noises that sound like a dying weasel, Mustang straightens his back, puts on his ‘the military wants you!’ face, and says: “Enlist.”

To her credit, Ed only blinks twice, before her mouth curls into a mischievous grin to anybody who knows her, and a dangerous snarl to the uninformed.

Al grins.

Havoc cringes.

“I,” Havoc’s wonderful Valkyrie of a wife thunders in a flawless imitation of her Teacher, “am a Housewife!”

Oh god. The look on Mustang’s face is priceless. He can’t help it.

Havoc starts to laugh.

BONUS:

Wondering why Father never managed to take over the world?

Funny story actually, Ed kinda might have just happened to be wandering by Briggs when Kimblee (the fucker) conned the Drachmans into attacking the fort, and hey, she kinda likes Amestris you know, being Amestris and not Drachma 2.0

So she drops a mountains worth of snow on them.

Funnily enough – carving a blood crest does not fucking work if all your victims die of air deprivation, or being crushed under several tons of ice and snow. Because, y’know, not enough blood being spilled and all.

Basically? The bad guys ran out of time – and it was all Ed’s fault, because no matter what they tried, she kept fucking up their plans by accident.

And then Honoheim owned their asses.

The End.